


Let Nothing You Dismay

by rowofstars



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-11
Updated: 2009-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4735604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-holiday fluff in which the Doctor is easily defeated and still makes Rose's day. If I tell you much more it will spoil the cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Nothing You Dismay

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/profile)[anepidemic](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/). This is what happens when I start decorating for the holidays. (No, not the fic writing part.) This is also what I wrote instead of what I need to be writing. C'est la vie!

The Doctor’s fingers inch along the wire, the sonic screwdriver following close behind. He adjusts the setting again, wanting to be absolutely certain of what these readings are telling him. The sonic chirps again, confirming his worst fears.

“What?!” the Doctor cries out. “No! It can’t be!”

A litany of expletives, covering 17 different languages, spills from his mouth, carrying sharply through the corridors, until it finally reaches the ears of Rose Tyler. She immediately discards her magazine, abandons her tea and bolts down the hallway. The metal grating bites into the soles of her socked feet, but she ignores it because the Doctor needs her.

“Bloody hell! Now it’s blinking!” the Doctor shouts. The lights of the console room dim ominously as the Tardis mirrors his distress.

Rose runs into the room and goes immediately to his side ready to help in any way she can. His brow is peppered with tiny drops of sweat, and his hand is clenched around the sonic screwdriver. He runs a hand through his overly ruffled hair and begins pacing back and forth.

“What is it Doctor? What’s wrong?” she asks, placing a hand on his forearm.

He halts and turns back towards the wiring, shrugging off Rose’s hand. His eyes go wide as he stares aghast at the latest development.

“Rose!” he exclaims. “Now they’re out completely!”

There is the quietest little snicker from his young companion as she finally sees the problem that has him in such a frenzied state. He whirls around to see her with her hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes are full of mirth as she tries to hold back the giggling fit that is threatening to burst out of her.

“You’re mocking me,” he accuses. She presses her lips tight, cheeks pushing into an almost smile, and shakes her head. “You are! Rose Tyler, you are laughing at me!”

“M’ trying not to,” she manages. A bubble of laugher escapes when the Doctor begins to pout. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it! I thought you were in trouble, or that we were in danger, _again_.”

“This _is_ trouble!” he insists. “Look at this! It’s preposterous! I have faced every manner of enemy the universe has to offer, some more times that even I can count – and believe me that’s a lot – I have seen the beginning and end of the universe, I am even so impressive that I successfully reversed the polarity of a neutron flow –”

Rose pulls a face and interrupts him. “Wait. Neutrons don’t have pol –”

“Yes I know that, but that’s how very very good I am.” He spins around again and sighs in frustration. “But _this_ , this _mess_ of cheap 21st century holiday wiring has utterly defeated me!”

Rose can’t hold it in any longer. She falls into the pilot’s seat, clutching at her stomach, barely able to breathe through the convulsions of laughter in her throat. Her face is flushed and her eyes are watery and red when she finally regains control and sits up.

The Doctor stands under a swooping arch of Christmas lights, with several more coiled and tangled at his feet. Some strands are colored, some are white. Some are blinking erratically while others are twinkling in strange patterns like half-crazed stars. One string droops from a pillar by the door to the top of the time rotor. Half of the white lights are shining brightly, the other half are running in a slow series from the door to the top of the column and back, with every other light on the line mocking him with its darkness.

He sighs heavily, tosses the sonic on the top ledge of the console and flops down next to Rose on the jump seat. It’s his way of raising the white flag. “I quit.”

Rose takes his hand, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. “My poor Doctor.”

“You said you had never put up lights before. You and Jackie never had a house you could decorate and I just wanted to give that to you.”

Suddenly she realizes the magnitude of what he’s tried to do for her, and all she wants to do is hug him and never let go. So she does, pouring all of her love and gratitude into it, whispering her thanks and a hundred ‘Happy Christmases’ against the cool skin of his neck. He holds her just as fiercely, elated that even in his failure he’s managed to bring her so much joy.

Eventually the rumblings of Rose’s stomach and the Doctor’s offer of sugar cookies and hot cocoa by the fire in the library, make them let go. They walk hand in hand down the hallway, ready for an evening discussion of such heady topics as the merits of sprinkles versus frosting, and the eternal debate of how many marshmallows is _too_ many.

Meanwhile, back in the console room, the chaos of lights on the floor is gone, the random malfunctions miraculously cured. Strings of lights drape perfectly from the center of the room and stretch out to all corners like the spreading branches of an evergreen. Each light twinkles perfectly, and the Tardis hums happily to herself.


End file.
